


The Gathering

by Darth_Videtur



Series: Master and Apprentice [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Debauchery, Disguise, F/M, Heavy Partying, Hunting, M/M, Master/Apprentice, Master/Slave, Multi, Sexual Slavery, Sith Orgies, Sith Shenanigans, Sith Training, Sith Trials, Sith slash, Slash, Sojourn, Submission, Teasing, The Gathering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:03:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7728016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Videtur/pseuds/Darth_Videtur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darth Plagueis tests both his enemies and his promising young apprentice during the annual Gathering on Sojourn. Suspecting one of his business arrangements to be less than trustworthy, Plagueis employs his apprentice in a plot of subterfuge and asks Jabba the Hutt for assistance about a small problem he has noticed.  </p><p>(Takes place a few months after "Breaking, Breaking, Broken?".)</p><p>(This story also partly stems from a conversation with author Lightpoint - go read her awesome stories too - about the Gatherings being thinly-veiled Sith Orgies. xD)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rok Naros was a problem. Not an overly large one, certainly, but the Theelin million-credits businessman was quickly overstaying his welcome in Plagueis’s cabal of elite competitors. There was no proof yet of his financial infidelity though, and Damask Holdings continued to profit from the union. Plagueis did not enjoy the bombastic humanoid’s company, but he rarely interacted with him. Rok’s company dealt with entertainment venues, some less than entirely legal in the galaxy’s multitude of casinos and brothels, and so Plagueis could not help the sense that the Theelin was beneath his notice.

 

A lesser being.

 

However, Hego Damask did not become inordinately wealthy by ignoring his suspicions.

 

And so he hatched a plan to expose the man’s duplicity, as Rok had never straightforwardly defied him. Nothing too dramatic, just a test set for one of the most dangerous nights of the year: The Gathering.

 

And his most dangerous tester: Darth Sidious. On strict orders to harm no one, of course. It wouldn’t do for the Sith to spill blood at the Gathering, when the Dark Side swelled in ordinary beings and brought blood and offerings of its own. No, the Sith would merely observe the course of things, the natural ebb and flow of violence encouraged in every beating heart tonight. 

 

They would prod and feast on the results. It did not require much prodding.

 

“Your menagerie on Sojourn continues to grow, my friend,” Jabba the Hutt wheezed with bellowing laughter and waved a stubby arm over the courtyard, filled with cages of exotic creatures newly imported from Tatooine, Malastare, and Naboo. A mix of slaves and mercenaries unloaded the cages from ships just outside the fortress and carried them inside to be prepared for the Gathering tonight, for which dozens of esteemed guests had already arrived.

 

As a gift, Jabba had even brought fifteen xuvvas with him from Nal Hutta to stock Sojourn’s wild forests for the evening’s Wild Hunt. He had arrived the day before on one of Damask’s elegant ships, designed by the late Rugess Nome. The fat slug perused the activity below. “I hear you’ve even collected a couple zalaacas.”

 

“I enjoy a wide variety of aesthetic pursuits,” Damask replied. They sat together, Jabba on a repulsorlift litter, on one of the large balconies overlooking the main fortress’s central courtyard. He mildly added, “For a Muun, of course. Nothing to aspire to your own eclectic tastes.”

 

“Oh, I understand,” Jabba grinned, well aware of his reputation for debauchery. And proud of it, Plagueis knew.  

 

Damask stared into the gaping wide, stench-filled mouth and smiled thinly back. “I suspected you would. If fact, I wonder if you might be willing to lend me your advice.”

 

“In the pursuits of pleasure?” Jabba asked bluntly. “Twi’leks are very flexible.”

 

Damask waved a long, slender hand. “No, nothing like that. You see, I already have an individual in mind.”

 

Jabba’s bulbous eyes widened. “Don’t tell me the mighty aloof Hego Damask has fallen for some young sweet thing?”

 

“Fallen is a strong word,” he murmured and pointed out into the courtyard. “Rather I might say I have some interest. See that one? The one tending the insectomorph?”

 

Jabba looked, and as he did, Plagueis permitted himself a moment of pride. Even in disguise, even with his hair and eye colors changed, the cleft of his chin smoothed out and his nose thinned with prosthetics until he was unrecognizable, Palpatine was fetching, slender and graceful. Perhaps more so with the nose less prominent. And those clothes…

 

Plagueis smiled. He had insisted on the disguise as a way for Sidious to benefit from listening in on the political bargaining and manipulation that took place on Sojourn. What better way to learn than to hear firsthand how his master played the galaxy with credits and promises during Sojourn’s Gatherings? No one paid attention to slaves; as far as the upper classes of the galaxy were concerned, the ones who came here and partook of the social experiment, slaves were pedestals to lean on, cheap labor, empty bodies to fuck at leisure. Slaves certainly understood nothing of what was said above their bowed heads.

 

It was sweet victory to watch how the Naboo noble’s cheeks had flamed with humiliation when Plagueis first presented the disguise to him, a slave costume designed to showcase his youthful torso and hips and thighs, dark red and gauzy cloth hanging down between his legs in short strips in front and back, secured to a wide silver belt. A single, handcrafted chain ran from the belt to a silver collar around the neck. Silver armbands for his sculpted biceps, and short soft leather boots to protect his feet from the rough cobblestones of the courtyards. A minimal, tightly bound loincloth for under the shifting red cloth, ostensibly to preserve a shred of modesty for the poor slave.

 

Rather, to taunt its disappearance, Plagueis thought as he watched Sidious bend to collect the feeding prong for the new animal. He could feel his apprentice’s disgust in the Force at being forced to wear it. Overall, the costume left little to the imagination, but enough to enflame curiosity. He willed his hardness away with the Force, letting Sidious catch a scent of his arousal in the Dark Side. Did he imagine that porcelain skin shivering?

 

Jabba looked back at him. “A slave?” he asked, almost uncertain.

 

Damask held his grotesque gaze. “A very promising slave.”

 

Jabba rumbled a much quieter laugh. “I see. Well, I can’t disagree. The boy is very pleasing to the eye. Thin like a Muun and pale, no wonder you like him. And you dress him well; the assets are clearly defined.”

 

“You also are known to enjoy the company of humans and near-humans,” Damask said boldly.

 

Jabba licked his lips at some disgusting memory. “I do, yes…” He turned to look at the slave again, his interest renewed.  

 

Motion on the far side of the courtyard.

 

Ah. Here they were. Right on time and just as he had instructed his other servants.

 

Plagueis sat up in interest as Rok Naros, the licentious Theelin business mogul recently arrived from the Inner Rim, caught sight of Sidious and approached from the other side of the courtyard. Plagueis watched, fascinated. Beside him, Jabba seemed similarly disposed. But Plagueis had his own thoughts: tonight would be a trial of its own for his apprentice, to keep his calm when the bloated, lazy rich of the galaxy would take notice of him.

 

Not the truth of him, but a worthless, powerless slave.

 

He fully intended to inure Sidious to any surprises in the future. He could not have his apprentice blanching and backing down in a heated moment, so he determined to introduce a wide variety of experiences into his apprentice’s training. This would be his first Gathering in which the young man, nineteen years of age and newly bedded by his master as of three short months ago, would not watch, robed and hidden, from the shadows.

 

Sidious would instead move among his future allies and enemies, nearly unclothed and completely unseen, learning their secrets they thought so safe. Learning and bringing about the undoing of Rok Naros tonight.

 

Bait set. Would the prey reach out and bite?

 

The Theelin, glittering in jewels and outlandishly colored robes, arrived by the cage of the insectomorph and spoke to Palpatine, too far away for either Damask or Jabba to hear the words. Sidious shook his head, his braid of dyed coal black hair falling gently against his pale neck, and turned back to slide a hunk of raw meat through the cage bars. The insectomorph tore greedily at it.

 

Rok roared with laughter and reached out and slapped the bare skin of his thigh, and Sidious jerked, turning on him nearly like a wild animal before he remembered himself and lowered his eyes deferentially. The businessman, a little indignant at the show of resistance, grabbed the chain to his collar and tugged him close. He ran his other taloned hand down the smooth muscles of Sidious’s chest and cupped it over his covered manhood.

 

From here, Plagueis could see the bright flush of anger on those pale cheeks as Rok whispered a clearly obscene threat into his right ear. Sidious nodded, swallowing, and stayed still as the Theelin roughly groped him through his thin clothing for a few seconds more and then finally released him to return to his work.

 

As Rok continued on his way across the courtyard, he turned one last time to peruse Sidious’s body and licked his lips before disappearing under the overhang on which Plagueis and Jabba sat.

 

Plagueis smirked. Bait taken.

 

Jabba roared with laughter. “I see what you mean. You’ve got a little spitfire on your long hands, Damask. Let me guess, he doesn’t return your affections?”

 

Damask sighed. “Not as I would prefer. He puts up with me, I suppose.”

 

Jabba leered. “As do many of mine. They just don’t realize the honor they have of being the playthings of the great Jabba the Hutt. But I break them in, slow and steady, until I have them well trained and begging to serve me.” He, like most others who owned slaves, spoke of them as though they were unintelligent animals, beasts of burden, amusing diversions.

 

 _He will never beg because he is no slave._ Damask nodded and followed suit. “Of course. But this one struggles with using his mouth, in particular. He is clumsy, and his teeth are sharp, and I have not the time or patience, or willingness to train him in that area myself.”

 

Jabba nodded. “It would be beneath you, anyway. Oral service is for slaves. For creatures like him.”

 

 _He could crush you like an insect, even now,_ Plagueis thought, amused. _That ‘creature’ will devour all of you with my guidance._ Out loud, he mused, “It’s a dilemma.”

 

Jabba watched Sidious again for a moment, licking his lips almost regretfully. “Have you considered having him trained by another slave? A more talented one? Say a Zeltron. Those have such wonderful effects on the ones you want to play with.”

 

Plagueis stared him, almost speechless. A Zeltron? Could it be that simple? Known galaxy wide for their sexual prowess and their overpowering pheromones, the species’ homeworld was said to be such a state of constant revelry that even invading armies were overcome by the collective ecstasy. Only single Zeltrons, wandering far from their home, were sometimes vulnerable to capture.

 

Could Sidious be overcome and trained by one of these? What would his apprentice do if confronted with one? How would he react to the sexual advances? The pheromones? Plagueis’s normally stolid mind was awash in what-ifs, and he found himself entertaining the thought long after Jabba had excused himself to prepare for the night’s debauchery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Sidious is not happy about that outfit. (Sidious: *pouts in corner :(*)  
> 2\. So the night's festivities are just beginning, and everyone has certain expectations. Who will succeed and who will fail?  
> 3\. Plagueis has such a buddy relationship with Jabba in his novel, it's kind of funny.


	2. Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plagueis and Sidious discuss the upcoming mission and the pitfalls of insubordination.

“How much of a threat can he be, Master? His trade and business account for only a small portion of Damask Holding’s profits,” Sidious said doubtfully as he paced back and forth across the expansive room. “I’ve looked over the data very carefully.”

 

Plagueis nodded and lazily eyed him from his place on the low couch in his private quarters. Night was falling on Sojourn, and they could both hear as the wild laughter and cheering at the Gathering slowly gathered steam, the parties returning from their bloody successful hunts. “Well done, and you speak truly, Apprentice. However, surface profits are not where my true concerns lie, nor should yours. Rok Naros’s business will sink or swim with or without him, that matters very little. But I would ask you to look beyond the surface of this.”

 

Feeling a wave of approval wash over him, Plagueis observed his apprentice sink into communion with the Dark Side, his eyes glowing a sudden, satisfied gold as he pulled on his ever-growing powers and searched the currents of the Force for answers. The Force was powerful indeed with this one.

 

After a moment, Sidious dropped out of his meditation and began pacing again, more ponderous now. “His rebellion, Master.”

 

“Follow that thought.”

 

“He… resents you. I can feel it. His… rebellion will spread to others if it is not rooted out and eliminated,” Sidious said, speaking slowly.

 

Plagueis smiled, cold and proud. “Yes, like a disease. Insubordination cannot be tolerated, Darth Sidious. It is not the outlandish displays of rebellion that are the most dangerous either, but the quiet thwarting of your wishes while in the shadows of your favor.”

 

Sidious glanced at him, saying nothing, the perfect image of an attentive apprentice. Plagueis paused a moment to admire his slender physique.

 

“When your mandatory public service ends next year and you work in the Legislature, the worlds will become far more complicated. Rebellion and insubordination will follow you, as the foolish masses cannot be trusted to know what is best for them. They will buck against their yokes like dumb animals. Consequently, you must deal swiftly and harshly with those who may lead others astray.”

 

Sidious stopped pacing, voice low and gently urgent. “Then allow me to eliminate him immediately, Master. Every moment we waste could be detrimental. Even now, he meets with others who he could negatively influence.”

 

However, Plagueis waved him off. He knew the true reason why Sidious balked tonight. “No. One should never blindly accuse another of rebellion. That can backfire spectacularly. One must have… proof. Which is why I have tasked you to discover the true nature of our slippery friend tonight when the hunters have returned.”

 

Sidious glanced away from his master, unable to completely hide the sullen resentment in his expression. “Why can’t I simply adopt the disguise of a businessman, Master? I could expose him just as easily for the durracrete slug he is.”

 

“And be expected to show up year after year, both in and out of Sojourn? To have a life, and a background? He would not speak openly before a fellow businessman, much less an unknown one. No, far better that you are a slave, who could disappear without a trace and none be the wiser. And someday, when you are Senator, then you will come here as yourself.”

 

Sidious drew in his breath. “I despise this charade, Master.”

 

Plagueis smiled and sipped his white Arkanisian silk wine. “I know you do. It sparks your anger, and if you can manage to focus it, it will serve you well tonight. You know how openly they talk around slaves.”

 

Sidious nodded. “Foolish simpletons. I don’t know why you tolerate them, Master.”

 

“It is to our advantage, ultimately,” Plagueis raised his glass in a mockery of a toast. Then he purposefully dropped his gaze lower over Sidious. “And somewhat to theirs.”

 

Sidious looked sharply away. “I could kill them all, Master. I hate it.”

 

“Yes, you could,” he said simply. “But you won’t, because it is not my wish that you do. Whom do you serve, Lord Sidious?”

 

The reply carried a dangerous note of anger. “You, my master.”

 

He wanted that note gone, so he set the glass on the low table, unfolded his lanky height from the couch, and glided across the room to Sidious, towering over him, and suddenly Sidious was truly aware of how little clothing he wore. Plagueis smirked at the animalistic apprehension in the taut body.

 

“You are correct, my little Sith.” He circled the human and stopped behind him, gazing down the lean back, admiring the gentle ridge of vertebrae, the faint outline of ribs and hipbones. “So… before tonight begins, a few grounds rules should be put in place. First…” He reached out and pulled the loincloth loose from the back of the belt, exposing the pale buttocks. “First, this is mine.”

 

Sidious shuddered as his master slid a long finger down his cleft and touched against his entrance. The ring of muscle tightened reflexively as Plagueis slid it into him, up to the second bony knuckle. He almost took a step forward, but Plagueis curled his finger back in warning, teasing out a light gasp from parted lips.

 

“Only mine,” Plagueis smiled as his apprentice clenched around him. If they had more time… but they did not. “If any of them try to take this for themselves, you will say my name, and they will stop.”

 

Sidious nodded, obviously not trusting himself to speak.

 

Plagueis leaned down over his ear. “But only penetration, my apprentice. If they wish to touch you, you will let them. Yes?” He pressed his finger deeper and felt the smaller body twitch.

 

Sidious turned his head sharply. “Master, I am only meant for you, you’ve said it yourself.” His hesitation was beautiful to taste. He turned to the monster he knew.

 

“And only my cock will be in you tonight, Sidious,” Plagueis promised him. “I am the only one who will take you utterly. And I will, when all this is over. Do your job well tonight, and we will both enjoy it.”

 

Sidious suppressed a deep shudder and bowed his head. “Yes… Master…”

 

Plagueis pulled his finger free and ran his hand further between the slender legs. To his credit, Sidious remained completely still. “The rest of you is theirs to play with tonight.” He paused. “Even your mouth.”

 

Sidious sighed. “Must I, Master?”

 

He raised a hand and clutched it loosely over the fragile throat. Almost gentle. “Are you questioning me?”

 

“No, Master. I understand.”

 

“Good. Then join the other slaves, and keep your ears open.” He pulled the loincloth back into place, tucking it back into the silver belt, patting Sidious’ bare hip when he finished and stepping back. His apprentice offered a courtly bow, so out of place with his costume, and turned to leave.

 

Plagueis called to him when Sidious was almost to the door. “Sidious.”

 

The young human froze.

 

“Remember, my apprentice, a happy tongue is a loose tongue. Keep them happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Poor Palpatine.   
> 2\. Poor Palpatine.  
> 3\. I decided to throw a Pinterest page together for this Master/Apprentice series. Check it out if you'd like. :D www.pinterest.com/darthvidetur/inspiration-for-master-and-apprentice/  
> 4\. Yay for extra time to write this week, like seriously. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sidious has a mission to complete, but he'd rather be anywhere else. The Gathering is no place for civilized beings, not when the hour grows late.

He looked forward to seeing how his apprentice would handle the night’s festivities, so Plagueis ensured that he found a seat overlooking the main courtyard where he could see every serving table and niche along the far side of the fortress. He had carefully ensured that Rok Naros would be seated close to Sidious’s assigned section.

 

Guests flowed in from the forests and the crude getaways, from Nest, from Cave, from Hideaway, from Escarpment, and more. All shapes and sizes, they crowed over the bodies of their hunts and butchered them on long tables until the blood ran freely down the sides and over their excited faces. Over the tables, voluptuous females danced against long poles, Theelins and Twi’leks and even a couple Togrutas, a few males scattered in among them for the more diverse of taste, and for the few powerful female guests in attendance.

 

Plagueis spied Sidious down along the lower left, carrying a tray of meat delicacies, his chain clanking against the golden platter as he moved it to one of the serving tables. Plagueis perused the crowd and spotted his quarry for the evening, already watching the ‘slave’ with open interest. 

 

Plagueis knew the bloodlust would slowly change to unabashed sexual fervor as inhibitions were swept away in violence and heavy drink. Gatherings unleashed the most base desires of the attendees by midnight, when the degrading skits and crude humor would reach its height. Everything that horrified the Republic, the civilized Republic, was permissible tonight.

 

One grand social experiment, kindly masks ripped away, savage evolution rearing its ugly head.

 

He thought it a nice lesson for Sidious, to show him how those with genteel faces could so easily be turned to rabid animals, with something as simple as… permission. He chuckled quietly.

 

“How is my moonstruck Muun tonight?” came a jovial laugh from behind, and Jabba the Hutt oozed his bulk into his peripheral vision, his litter strangely missing. Plagueis barely looked at him or the trail of slime left behind.

 

“Enjoying the lovely evening air,” he replied at length.

 

“And your slave?”  
 

“I will…” He said. Noncommittal.

 

Jabba rolled his tongue across his slimy lips as he also spotted Sidious down below. “If I didn’t prefer the female form, I’d be very interested in that one. As is, he’s a tempting morsel. I can’t imagine how many others are thinking that right now, down there.”

 

Plagueis smiled with his mouth only. “I can.”

 

And he could. He could feel the interest of dozens of eyes, lazy perusals drifting down Sidious’s lean legs and bare chest as he set out the trays of food. The Force whispered of their longing, dark and terrible and selfish. He knew Sidious could feel it too, the way the narrow shoulders tightened with concealed, imperfectly masked hate. Someday he would be able to hide it better, but right now, it worked in his favor, provided an edge that many slaves carried.

 

How much longer before one of them grew bold enough to do more than look? Hard to say, but he saw one of the Gran, one of Pax Teem’s party, grab a Twi’lek dancer from the table by her lekku and pull her laughing into his lap. She squirmed loose and scrambled back up, evoking a chorus of laughter from the men around her. Plagueis could sense her fear and pain blaring across the Force, but she kept dancing as the trained professional she was.

 

Sidious paused only briefly to watch the scuffle, his expression seared with open disdain for the antics of the Gran. Plagueis saw Rok Naros take note of it and whisper to one of his companions.

 

Jabba seemed to read his thoughts. “I’m surprised you permitted him to serve tonight. You of all beings know how a Gathering develops.”

 

“It is part of his training,” Plagueis said. “I want to train out some of that defiance.” True, in a sense.

 

“Well, tonight should put an end to that,” Jabba belly-laughed. “You’ve picked a good vantage point to watch things unfold.”

 

He truly had. The courtyard was crowded, shoulder to shoulder at many of the tables, serving slaves weaving in and out of the morass. One of Sidious’s serving partners slipped and fell in a puddle of blood from one of the cloned animals, a reek, raising more raucous laughter. One of the Dugs reached out a hind foot and pushed her back down when she tried to rise, and she scrambled a short distance away to get to her feet, to the calls of a dozen cajoling voices.

 

Eyes shifting to all sides, Sidious turned away and went back to the main table, but Rok bit his lip and called out to him. Sidious looked, and for a moment, Plagueis thought he would ignore the businessman, but finally he moved toward him.

 

Plagueis let out his breath slowly and leaned forward, eager to witness and hear the scene, for they were not far from him. He heightened his senses in the Force, Sidious as yet unaware that he could eavesdrop from such a distance. The Master held many powers the Apprentice had yet to learn.

 

“Come on now,” the Theelin was saying. “Be a good little slave and bring us a sampling of meats.”

 

“Any preference?” Sidious asked politely, maintaining a short distance between them.

 

Rok smirked. “Shouldn’t that be, ‘Any preference, sir?’”

 

Sidious stared at him. “Sir?”

 

“Go on, go get something good and bring it back, along with yourself,” the other snapped and laughed to his companions as Sidious moved away. “Look at that,” he leered. “Could be I get lucky tonight.”

 

His friends laughed too, males and females like, though only a few women were prominent at the Gathering who were not slaves. _They tend to lack the resolve for such bloodlust,_ Plagueis thought and let his eyes rove around the courtyard. His guests were progressively becoming more comfortable with the serving staff. One Duros had a human serving girl on his lap, his wide hand creeping under the flimsy flaps of her skirt, her eyes huge with nervous terror.

 

A Bothan, one of the head spies in the infamous galactic network, was stroking the neck and shoulders of a petrified young male slave, his thick muzzle snuffing the soft golden hair as the boy tried to work on clearing the dirty dishes from the rough-hewn table.

 

The mood was changing in the Gathering as the guests, their stomachs sated, turned to other pursuits. Someone called out a crude suggestion of a beautiful and renowned female senator, certainly not in attendance tonight, and the crowd roared approval. The music grew louder and throbbed with the beats of primitive drums along the top of one fortress wall, beaten by muscular, scarred slaves. The dancers danced faster to avoid reaching, probing fingers.

 

Jabba sucked a squealing delicacy from his plate onto his palate. “I heard Gardulla is making a fine case for herself.”

 

Plagueis barely heard him. “Yes, you shouldn’t overlook her, Jabba.”

 

“Don’t plan to,” Jabba grunted, and then clapped his fat hands and laughed when one enterprising human guest managed to catch and tear the top off one of the dancers, exposing lovely, dark-tipped red breasts and a soft squeal. Other dancers were already slowly beginning to disrobe, partially or entirely, enticing the guests below who oohed and ahhed as bits of flesh were exposed.

 

Rok Naros was growing impatient by the time Sidious returned, laden with a platter of heavy meats. “I’m tired,” he pouted with all the theatrical foolishness of his race, twirling his long manicured nails around the three left horns of his temple. “I think you should feed me, slave.”

 

Sidious looked thunderous for only a second before his expression smoothed out. He pulled a strip of the meat off the platter and held it out to the humanoid, who leaned away and grinned toothily. Sidious stepped closer, but the Theelin did not reach to take it.

 

“Come on, slave, feed me, I’m getting impatient.” Rok licked his lips and opened his mouth. Sidious slowly reached for him, letting his fingers brush the humanoid’s lips as the meat slipped in, and before he could move away, Rok’s hands closed around his waist, holding him in place. “Another.”

 

Plagueis watched, entranced, as the Theelin caught Sidious’s fingers between his lips and sucked them clean of the meat’s juices, tongue flicking out lasciviously to taste the human’s skin. Sidious swallowed and reached for more meat, hoping to distract the businessman.

 

But Rok had his prey in sight. He rubbed slow circles on the barely visible hipbones and sighed. “This meal has unusual courses,” he told his companions. “But I don’t think I’ll complain quite yet.”

 

They all laughed, and a couple reached forward, emboldened, to caress Sidious along the arms and sides. He stood still, accepting their advances as Plagueis had instructed. _Such an obedient little apprentice._ One richly dressed human female from Corellia pinched at his left nipple playfully, and Sidious flinched a little under her probing hands.

 

It excited them. Rok chortled and dropped his hands down, sliding several fingers under the edge of the loincloth. Sidious instinctively stepped forward, but it only brought his body closer to the Theelin’s leering mouth. He nearly dropped the platter when sharp teeth nipped at his flank and the fingers tugged at his loincloth.

 

“Here,” said the human behind him, and slid the cloth free of the belt, letting it drop from the back and then pulling it completely off Sidious. The others made appreciative sounds. Plagueis could see the outline of his apprentice’s slender shaft through the gauzy red strips, completely limp and unaroused. He could see the bulges in the pants of the males surrounding the two.

 

Rok smacked his lips and pulled the platter out of Sidious’s hands, shoving it carelessly away on the table. “Look at your cock,” he told Sidious. “You scared, slave? You’re not hard.”

 

“Not scared, sir,” Sidious ground out, flushing as he felt the cool air caress his skin as the human behind him lifted the strips of transparent cloth away and studied him openly.

 

Just incredibly, deliciously drowning in hate. Plagueis smiled. 

 

“I want a better look,” the Theelin grinned, grabbing hold of the belt and working at its buckle. Sidious’s eyes darted around the courtyard, his body jerking forward with each playful tug. Everywhere he looked, individuals were sliding into various states of undress, mostly slaves as the guests disrobed them. As they were disrobing him. Plagueis could feel his distress and hatred buried deep in the Dark Side.

 

Rok finally managed to undo the belt, and he pulled it clear and passed it to one of the others, unhooking the collar’s chain from the belt and wrapping the chain in his fist. They passed his covering hand to hand, until one finally dropped it behind the table, forgotten in the growing fervor.

 

Sidious shivered, bared to their hungry gazes. Someone said something very bawdy, and he flushed anew. The female rubbed her long hands over his buttocks and down his lean thighs. Someone called for more food, and then they noticed the skits beginning on the center stage. Rok looked torn, and finally tugged on the collar to pull Sidious down to his knees at the businessman’s feet.

 

A lowly slave, forgotten in the excitement.

 

Now the real work could begin, Plagueis thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Tabletop dancers, Luceno... seriously?? xD   
> 2\. Gatherings are freaky events, and Plagueis's own little petri dish of social experimentation, lol.   
> 3\. Sidious would like to shed a little blood too tonight.


	4. Tested and Tried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plagueis discovers if the Theelin can be trusted. Sidious endures said discovery.

For nearly half an hour they sat, Sidious pressed against the Theelin’s legs, as the skits rolled on and created great merriment at the Republic’s expense. Everything ended up a mockery, from the most corrupt Chancellors to the most pious of senators. Democracy became a foul word on the lips of drunken revelers. Eventually, Rok pulled his hand to his crotch and parted his motley robes. “Attend me, slave,” he commanded, lazy and imperious as his friends chuckled.

 

As Sidious pulled him free of his trousers and pleasured him with his hands, Rok spoke at length to his companions on a wide variety of topics, including his own plans for his entertainment company. They mocked and laughed at the actors in the skit, and talked freely of the day when the Republic would pay for their indignities. Names were bandied about with immunity, numbers, figures, information dripping from drink-loosened maws of all shapes and sizes.

 

Eventually Rok’s inhibitions fell away, and he became quite open among his small band of companions, complaining of Damask’s treatment of him, his financial woes, and so on. Predictably, his voice finally dropped much too low for even Plagueis’s Force-enhanced hearing, but the Sith Master knew his apprentice would gather everything essential.

 

Plagueis watched Sidious listen to them with a low look of concentration as he filed the information away in the Force just as Plagueis had taught him. Even as his slender fingers wrapped around the Theelin’s hardening shaft, he was testing the authenticity of the boasts through the filter of the Dark Side. He was a natural at this, Plagueis already knew, at deception and distraction, at determining what might be trusted and what could not.

 

He felt himself swelling with pride for this young vergence in the Force from Naboo. Nothing would be able to stop him. The Force told him that much already. And someday, his natural glory would no longer need to be hidden away. 

 

When he grew close to satisfaction, Rok Naros pushed Sidious’s hands away and slid a finger appreciatively along the thin lips, speaking loudly enough for Plagueis to hear again. “Not yet, slave. I want you to finish with your mouth.”

 

Sidious looked askance at him, and Rok tapped his jaw sharply. “Let’s see what you can do.”

 

Sidious nodded, slid up to his knees in the blood-slicked dirt and leaned forward and took the Theelin in, but as always, his oral efforts were clumsy and unfocused due to his intense loathing of the act. Plagueis watched, disappointed.

 

_He must learn to set aside his personal feelings. Are all humans so begrudging?_

 

The others jeered and mocked the ‘slave’s’ lack of technique, calling out ribald tips and crude comments. Sidious’s anger only increased under his surface, which caused his performance to further suffer.

 

He could sense Rok losing patience as Sidious failed to sufficiently please him with his mouth. “You never given a blow job before, slave?” he demanded, gripping Sidious by the hair until the young human grunted and pulling him off the softening shaft.

 

“Sorry, sir,” Sidious looked at the ground, jaw working painfully from the sudden jerk. “I’m trying.”

 

“Forget it,” the businessman growled. “We’ll use the other end instead, come on, up.” He tugged at the chain around the collar and Sidious rose at the pressure on his neck, uncertain.

 

His mind made up at last, Plagueis glanced at Jabba, who was eying the rows of dancing girls on a long table. “Would you happen to know where I might find a Zeltron?”

 

The giant slug looked back at him, then down at the ‘slave’ being berated by Rok for his lack of skill as he was forced up onto the table, shivering as he knelt on all fours. His pale body practically glowed in the light of the massive bonfire at the center of the courtyard. “Ah. I actually happen to have one for sale, if you want him.” Jabba’s large eyes shown with greed.

 

Plagueis waved his hand nonchalantly. “Name a fair price, and I will pay it.”

 

Jabba glanced down. “I can see why. Hold on to this one, Magister. Or someone will steal him away.”

 

Plagueis smirked. He could afford to consent to nothing more tonight. “We will see if he shows any promise, Jabba.”

 

Beneath them, Rok was trying to tease the young human into a state of quivering lust, drawing his fingers over his sensitive skin and tugging playfully at his shaft. Sidious’s teeth were gritted, but he was forcing himself to respond, to let small sounds of pleasure escape his parted lips.

 

Small, docile, half frightened whimpers, perfect for satisfying his aggressive tormentor.

 

It was the perfect display. To all appearances, to any prying eyes, Sidious was only a slave whose body was slowly submitting to the masterful tricks of his superiors, as any slave was expected to do with both demure resistance and wanton willingness. Rok Naros relaxed, his chest puffing with pride as the ‘slave’ flinched and gasped under his insistent touch. “See now, we’re all having a bit of fun here,” he told him, leaning in and licking a wet stripe up his hip. The saliva glistened in the flickering light. Sidious sucked in his breath sharply.

 

“Aren’t we?”

 

“Yes, sir…” Sidious stilled.

 

One of the humans laughed. “Listen to him, sounds like you’re taming him at last.”

 

The Theelin grinned. “What was that, slave? I couldn’t hear you.” He circled his fingers up to the base of the slender cock and squeezed, drawing out a low keening sound from Sidious before he bit his lip and reached underneath himself to adjust Rok’s painful grip. The humanoid shoved him roughly away. “Get used to it, slave.”

 

Sidious gripped the table tightly and lowered his head. But Rok didn’t like that. He reached out and grabbed the short black braid, tugging the Naboo’s head back until he was staring into the lustful eyes of Rok’s companions, some of them subtly pleasuring themselves as they watched.

 

“Look at them all watching you,” Rok grinned. Sidious closed his mouth tightly when the Theelin pumped him once. “You like what I’m doing to you? Let it out, slave. Come on, make some noise for us.”

 

Sidious glanced around the courtyard, seeing other slaves going the same way as him, startling when he spotted a male Twi’lek dancer writhing on the cock of a massive and masked human, his own light blue long shaft straining against his thin belly, his blue face twisted with pain and arousal. The courtyard was filling with the sounds of gasping abandonment as the guests discovered the night truly meant to break all possible boundaries of society.

 

Letting go of one’s civilized façade was exhilarating, Plagueis knew, remembering the many missions he and Sidious had already undertaken on faraway planets. When only the beast ruled. Here at the Gathering, the darkness ruled with a durasteel hand, and to be swept up in the waves of pleasure could not be underestimated. Yet Plagueis knew it was different on the ground level than looking down on it all. More real, more raw.

 

The Theelin kept at his apprentice stubbornly. “Come on.”

 

Sidious nodded and swallowed, opened his mouth and let out a soft moan. His audience leered and jeered with calls of “Louder!” and “You can do better than that!” 

 

Rok spat on his fingers and eased them, agonizingly slow, from the indent at the base of the human’s spine down past his entrance over his balls and down the underside of his cock, and Sidious arched his back and moaned louder. Someone applauded in delight. The human female kissed him roughly, hungrily over the table before being pulled back at the Theelin’s annoyed wave.

 

“How’s he going to scream for me if you idiots gag him?”

 

They laughed. Rok brushed over him again, quickly this time, and Sidious nearly came up off the table at the sudden touch with a wordless cry, his voice now audible to everyone in the group, and a little beyond. Some of the other revelers glanced over, eyes lighting up at the idea of watching a shy, inexperienced slave come undone when they saw the red flush spreading over his pale skin. 

 

Rok pressed his fingers between the lean legs and rubbed, and Sidious frothed with anger in the Force. But on the outside, it looked real, even to Plagueis. Sidious looked like he wanted the Theelin’s hands on his body, like he was enjoying the endless teasing and taunting touches in spite of himself.

 

Plagueis wondered just how good his acting was and experienced a disconcerting wave of insecurity. But Sidious could never hide or mask such carnal, such raw reactions from him, not in the Force. He was the Master, Sidious only the Apprentice still.

 

But now came the true test for the Theelin businessman. Plagueis leaned forward and propped his chin on his fingertips.

 

Sidious went rigid when Rok Naros touched his entrance and kept his finger in place, teasing at the clenched muscle. This was no light brushing, but it had intent behind it. “Wait! Lord… Master… Master Damask,” he gasped out. “Master Damask wants me unspoiled, sir. You can look and touch, but you cannot take.”

 

Rok hesitated. “Damask? You’re one of Hego Damask’s?”

 

Sidious paused. “Yes…”

 

_If only he might submit like that in my bed,_ Plagueis thought and waved the wistful sentiment away. Not his perfect apprentice. At least, not yet. Perhaps someday, when they were truly equals… when there might be no danger in the act to either himself or his apprentice.

 

Rok had made his decision. Sharp teeth flashed. “Really? I don’t like him much, personally. That old Muun’s a fool. You can tell him how much I enjoyed your tight little body and thank him for the gift. It was well used.” He dipped his finger forward, and Sidious jerked away, but the others laid hold of his limbs and held him to the table as the Theelin pressed deeper. Sidious whimpered and thrashed in their grips.

 

Rok laughed and added a second finger. The tight channel spasmed around his probing digits. He pumped them lazily in and out, in and out. Sidious was beginning to sound like the slaves on the other tables, the ones being taken already. He keened loudly in protest each time Rok probed forward, his hips writhing as he tried to escape the hard hands of his audience. Plagueis knew he would not use the Force in such a public place, not when he might risk exposing them both as Sith. He would let himself be fucked first.

 

Damask was impressed even as he was motioning his silver-armored Echani Sun Guards forward. “Escort our overly eager friends into a private room to wait on my orders,” he scowled. “And bring the slave to me.”

 

“Sir!” They disappeared quickly, efficiently into the lower level of the compound. Seconds later, they had surrounded the Theelin businessman and pulled him loose of Sidious, just as Rok was preparing to insert his long shaft.

 

“What’s the idea?” he sputtered, enraged, as the others backed away and Sidious scrambled down from the table and searched for his covering, tying it quickly back in place and staying low, playing the part of a petrified slave well. One of the Sun Guards reached down and took him gently but firmly by the arm, pulling him upright and steering him away from the guests.

 

Their complaints echoed after him.

 

When Sidious arrived on the balcony in the company of his Sun Guards, Plagueis looked him over. How delightfully strange Sidious looked in his disguise and dull black hair, but how he preferred the shining red instead. “You are unharmed, slave?”

 

Sidious kept his gaze fixed on the floor. “Yes, Master.”

 

Jabba looked at him in clear interest, eyeing the hardened cock under the gauzy material. He told Plagueis crudely, “You might as well make use of the progress they made on him.”

 

For show, Plagueis studied his apprentice’s half-aroused state. “Perhaps I will,” he allowed a small false leer to drift to his long face, for Jabba’s sake, and stood up. “Come along, slave. You will attend me.”

 

Jabba’s belly laugh followed them deep into the depths of the fortress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. At least Palpatine can wave those self-entitled jerks goodbye.  
> 2\. Plagueis loves testing things every way possible. What a fascinating mad scientist type.   
> 3\. One more chapter to go in this tale, as our Sith Lords debrief the mission.


	5. The Hand that Gives and Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Plagueis debriefs the mission with his apprentice and carries out a promise he made. Darth Sidious receives on-the-job training and isn't terribly enthusiastic about it.

Sidious followed him down the winding stairs toward the private sanctum of Hego Damask, and the sounds of the screaming, laughing revelers faded into a dull background. They swept silently through a wide reception area garmented in breath-taking, colorful tapestries and a roaring fireplace. As they passed the reinforced security shielding and moved into the private hall, Sidious ripped the slave covering from his body and tore the collar loose from his neck, and the Force roiled with his hatred for the guests.

 

Plagueis watched him tear at the soft cloth of his covering and did not rebuke him when he left the pieces lying scattered on the cold floor behind them. Evidently a slave’s accompaniments were worse than simple nakedness, he smirked. How prideful his young apprentice could be. When Sidious tried to use the Force to will his erection away, Plaguies shook his head. “Leave it.” Sidious glanced at his master almost in defiance but obeyed his order.

 

The Muun smiled. “You did well tonight, Apprentice. I could feel your control slipping, but you held it.”

 

“Was that what this truly was, Master?” Sidious asked, voice half-strangled and harsh, barely polite, barely respectful. “A test of my control? More than exposing his secret deals and trades? I have many names, more numbers, proof that could destroy his company a hundred times over.”

 

Plagueis glanced down at him. “A trial can contain multiple purposes. I am satisfied with how you performed and the information you gathered. You would have allowed yourself to be penetrated before giving up the secrets of our Order.”

 

Sidious scoffed. “Hardly something precious to me, Master.” _Anymore. Because of you._ The accusation passed unspoken, but Plagueis sensed it nonetheless.

 

_Oh, but it still is._ His apprentice still rankled with subdued misgiving when his master took his pleasure, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. His apprentice desired control above all else, and to have that summarily removed, stripped from him like his ornate Naboo robes… well, Sidious would always struggle against that. Humans.

 

Plagueis turned him by the shoulder into a private reception room on the right. It remained one of his favorites in the fortress, filled with ornate scarlet greel-wood furnishings and thick, warm rugs, an occasional hide of some unfortunate creature pinned to the walls.

 

The Dark Lord wasted no time. He turned to his apprentice and ran his fingers over the half hard cock, feeling the delicate arch of it, gathering the bit of sticky moisture and sliding it down between the human’s legs, coating the taut entrance. Sidious was tight with anger tonight. His entire body remained as stiff as one of the fresh logs lying in the fireplace.

 

A bit of persuasion would be needed after the close call with Rok Naros, so Plagueis walked to a low cabinet and floated a small, opaque bottle up. As he stalked back, he spilled the rich oil into his thin palm and allowed the musky scent to infuse the air. Sidious looked at him, surprised. “A reward,” he said, and watched Sidious’s cheeks flush with the mockery. He felt the rage in the Force, rolled the oil between his fingertips almost playfully. “Perhaps you can enjoy this tonight.”

 

He reached for him and continued to prepare his little human until the lithe body was trembling at his touch, dipping his finger shallowly in and enjoying the way the breath caught with each gentle thrust. He tested Sidious in the Force and found his apprentice carefully withdrawn and corralled. His shielding was strong indeed.

 

“Bend over,” Plagueis murmured, pointing at the near table. Sidious looked him, expressionless, then obediently walked to it and lowered his upper body on the cool surface, tensing along his pale limbs.

 

Plagueis approached but took a moment to remove his cloak and unfasten his plain banker’s clothes, rubbing the excess oil over his large shaft before he slid it into his waiting apprentice. The tight channel clenched automatically at the overly large intrusion, but the additional lubrication eased his passage this time. Sidious groaned and clutched the table as his master slowly filled him to the hilt.

 

Pausing in him, Plagueis admired the heat that enveloped his senses. “I was impressed by your willingness to follow through with my instructions. Such loyalty is to be desired in an apprentice.” He traced long fingertips down the silky flanks, over the outline of the fragile ribcage, and was rewarded with a soft hiss of drawn breath.

 

“However, I was greatly disappointed by your oral servicing of the Theelin,” he noted softly, stopping the movement of his fingers. “You seem to be struggling with that.”

 

Sidious lay quietly under him, face turned slightly on the smooth surface of the table and staring at the far wall and fireplace dispassionately. “I… apologize, Master.”

 

“Perhaps it is my fault,” Plagueis said, offhanded and unconcerned. He withdrew to the tip, feeling the human’s internal muscles grip and slide reflexively over his slickened cock, making him harder yet. Sidious whimpered low in his throat, barely audible.

 

“Perhaps I pushed you too hard with the pirates…”

 

How he loved the new tightness as Sidious’s whole body went rigid at the memory! “Careful, my apprentice,” he cautioned when the Dark Side began to boil. “Control yourself. Treat it as event, break it down into its useful pieces.” He thrust back in, a little harder than before.

 

Sidious bit his lip until blood trickled down his chin. For a moment, the room crackled only with the sound of the small fireplace set in the far wall. “Yes… Master.” He withdrew his anger in the Force at last, tucking it deep within himself and cooling it, savoring it and letting it bring him strength and focus.

 

“Better,” Plagueis chuckled. “Now then, Rok Naros, Sidious. What did you sense about him?” 

 

“A s-slavering fool,” Sidious centered his mind on the question, attempting to ignore the distracting pressure between his legs.

 

The Muun watched him, admiring the clear effort in the clouded yellow eyes. _Look at how his eyes reflect the flames, like some savage beast lurking on the edge of a campsite, ravenous and insatiable. But cautious and calculating at the same time. What an ally._ “What did you learn, my apprentice?” He pushed in hard.

 

“That – ahhhh… That his business is nowhere near as stable as he tries to make the others believe. He is in danger of bankruptcy. He owes a great deal of money to the Hutts…” That much was certainly true. Rok’s time was up; and Plagueis could not stop the red at the corners of his vision when he imagined Palpatine’s tender body arching with abandon under Rok’s grasping ugly fingers, how the humanoid had nearly taken his pleasure despite Damask’s clear orders.

 

Never. None defied Hego Damask, and none would so much as _touch_ Sidious without the permission of Darth Plagueis.

 

Plagueis decided then and there that that the Sith Order _would_ spill blood tonight after all, that he would allow Sidious to satisfy his blood-burning, and a new manager for Rok’s floundering  company could be found easily enough in the morning. Sidious would like that, he knew. It would be simple enough to arrange the scene of an accident, as long as his apprentice left the body intact.

 

But to the matter at hand, as Palpatine now lay quietly under him. “Good. The knowledge that will allow us to destroy him and his legacy. But what else? What was far more important for us to know, Lord Sidious?”

 

Sidious paused and swallowed, trying to adjust to his master’s greater weight as he leaned close. “That he is willing to betray your wishes and trust, M-master.”

 

Plagueis nodded, impressed. “For passing pleasure, no less. Imagine how he might seek to betray me if he perceived that something significant were on the line. But no, he would have defied me for the pleasure of putting his cock in you. A pretty little slave.”

 

Sidious growled softly.

 

“Not the truth of you, of course,” the Sith Master relented, gentling his tone, curving long fingers over a wiry pale shoulder, impossibly smooth, warm skin. “He failed my trial, and as you can attest, only I am taking you. And for his impertinence, he will die tonight by your hand.”

 

Sidious stilled with cautious gratitude, eyes flickering up to glance at him then fixing on the fire again. “Thank you, my Master…”

 

“Perhaps another day, another Gathering, I’ll let one of them have you,” Plagueis mused. “Would you like that, my apprentice?”

 

The answering disgusted shudder was delightful. Plagueis leaned down and covered the smaller body under his own. He drew on his own disgust. “No? I was tempted to let him take you tonight, Lord Sidious. I wonder what you would have looked like, raped on his cock, bathed in firelight like some uncivilized animal.” He grinned fondly, without mercy.

 

“Unable to use the Force to defend yourself, because you would be exposed worse than you already were. Not only your body naked and vulnerable, but the beast revealed.” He quickened his thrusts in time with his panting breath. Under him, Sidious grunted softly in pain. Under him, the Force trembled with fear and loathing.

 

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “With me, you can release the animal in you, Sidious. You can let the Force out.”

 

Plagueis reached for the midichlorians of his squirming apprentice. He gasped in delighted shock when Sidious made no attempt to block him away, when he tasted the raw anger and humiliation and vengeful hatred from the evening’s festivities. The Dark Side was strong in his human tonight, lighting every limb with its power. He tasted it hungrily. The temperature in the room dropped. Even the fire seemed to die away in timid fright.

 

“You are beautiful and deadly in the same breath,” he whispered, breathless himself. He reached for the other’s Force presence and encountered the icy cold of Sidious, snapping with the desire to thrust his master away, to take control for himself. That would not do. Not yet anyway. “But you must still account for your failure to please him. Submit to me, Lord Sidious,” he hissed, pressing down on his apprentice with his own power, choking the darkness to his will.

 

Physically, Sidious writhed and arched under him. In the Force, he pulled his walls tighter and pushed his master away. Plagueis smiled savagely and thrust forward with his thick cock, pinning the younger Sith to the table and momentarily breaking his mental concentration. He slipped through the crack in the Force shielding and ravaged the busy mind with his, filling his apprentice with images of submission and powerlessness. Of wanton hedonism and a heaving belly, his slender body filled with his powerful master’s cold pleasure. How good it might feel if he just. Let. Go.

 

Sidious bucked agaisnt him with a strangled cry. “No… Get out…”

 

Plagueis reflected that he did not often take Sidious’s mind along with his body, that his apprentice loathed this action far worse than his physical debasement. Sidious required such a cautious taming that Plagueis invaded his mind only when punishment was required. Its rarity made it all the sweeter as Sidious writhed and whimpered in the Force, building his shields as fast as Plagueis tore them down.

 

“You are doing well, Lord Sidious,” he whispered into the nearly deaf ear. “But not good enough. I am your master in all things.”

 

_Submit_. He sent the demand into the Force and received a stubborn resistance.

 

He sighed and pulled them back into the physical present for a short moment, stroking his long grey fingers down the trembling set jaw and delicate throat. Sidious shivered and swallowed a rusty gasp as he registered Plagueis’s fully hardened cock buried so deep in his channel. Plagueis shifted in him and teased out a stuttering sound of mingled pain and pleasure.

 

Sidious took a moment to gather his voice. “Master… Haven’t I pleased you? Didn’t I do what you asked?”

 

Plagueis offered a malevolent grin. “Are you attempting to divert my attentions, Lord Sidious? Will you give the delights of your body away to prevent the violation of your mind? I know how you treasure your privacy.”

 

“I, I am willing to do anything, Master.”

 

Plagueis sneered. “Really? Such a blithe tongue. Beg for my mercy, then, Apprentice. Beg for me not to fuck you.” He thrust hard, and Sidious moaned low and desperate, clutching at the table. “Ah, it is too late for that, is it not? I am already fucking you open, my little Sith slut. Beg for me to stop fucking you then, to pull my cock out of you and leave you alone. Beg for mercy.”

 

“There… ahh…” he tried to shift away when Plaguies hooked one long hand under his left thigh. “There is no mercy…”

 

The Muun paused, feigning surprise and inwardly impressed. “I thought you were willing to do anything, Lord Sidious.”

 

Sidious remained silent. Plagueis admired his fortitude, his refusal to lower himself to beg. _Such a proud, haughty little noble. He is perfect._

 

Smiling, he whispered, “Anything… except give me your mind.”

 

The young Sith Lord said nothing when Plagueis pulled him back and partly off the table, impaling him deeper on the thick shaft and sending a new wave of delicious pain through the thin body. Plagueis bent and nipped at the turned throat now presented to him, ruthlessly pinched at a hard nipple, reached underneath and squeezed the silky hardness of the human’s aching cock. Sidious gasped with each firm stroke.

 

 “A Sith’s path is not easy, Lord Sidious. Only when you are nothing can you be made everything. The mold must be shattered, a new one forged. Submit to me, give me your mind.”

 

Sidious shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, defiant like only he could be. It almost made Plagueis come from the heady rush it gave him. He took a ragged breath and hissed, “There is still too much fire in you from the Gathering, is there not? Very well, if you will not submit, you will be broken tonight, Lord Sidious. As I broke you before and will break you again until you learn to bend to my will whenever I desire.”

 

He sent a sharp thrust of the Force into the tiny cracks of the thick walls and watched them collapse under his advanced precision. He stared into the black hole behind them, mesmerized at the glimpse of the limitless desire for power, the staggering potential, more blinding in its utter blackness than a thousand glowing suns.

 

And it was his, all his. It writhed under him, took his cock, and followed his commands. It bit back a strangled scream as he shattered the last of its mental defenses and ran ethereal hands through its most private places, the place where it harbored infinite hatred for its master. Plagueis was not angered by what he saw, for he also saw the loyalty of a true Sith apprentice.

 

Sidious would not betray him. Sidious needed him still. Sidious needed to hate him at this point in his training, needed the fire for survival that only Plagueis could bring him. He would perhaps always need him, and that hatred would turn to more profitable emotions once he reached parity. Once he understood.

 

Plagueis watched the power flood against his senses, seeking escape and finding none as he corralled it and forced it down under his own. It fought him like a slippery shadow, and he shattered the tendrils it sought to slip through his defenses. He snapped the nonexistent spine across his nonexistent knee and then gathered the gasping pieces in his arms and tenderly caressed them.

 

_You are beautiful when broken._

_Not… broken…_

Plagueis shuddered and came hard, and Sidious barely seemed to notice, his eyes rolling limply in his head as his body took the evidence of the Muun’s release. Plagueis ran his hand under the taut belly and imagined a small swelling as he pumped his illicit pleasure into Palpatine. Just a passing fantasy, but if he pressed his fingers, just so – Sidious whimpered – he could feel the bulge of his own massive cock buried in the youth’s thin body.

 

Plagueis slipped free and withdrew his Force presence, watching his apprentice rest against the table on shaking arms, internally scrambling to piece together his fragmented shielding, shaking and shattered. Plagueis knew Sidious would rebuild in time, would try to rebuild greater than before and perhaps even succeed someday.

 

“I am proud of you, my apprentice,” he whispered, knowing that Sidious was buried deep in the Force, worrying at his shields and wounded far too much to be listening. He wondered what it might be like if Sidious would ever return his affections. He entertained the idea much too long, even as maudlin a thought as it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. You can bet Palpatine is going add a few modifications of his own to his shields.   
> 2\. The next story is set to take place a few months after this one and deals with the Zeltron issue. It gets pretty dark, even for those two. Emotional manipulation on top of everything else.   
> 3\. Can't they just cuddle up by the fire and behave?


	6. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Sidious tries to find a little closure for the evening's trials.

“What is he expecting to get out of this?!” Rok Naros fumed helplessly as he paced around the finely decorated guest room, stepping over the thick edge of the lush rug each time he reached it. Hours had passed by now according to his personal timepiece. The rest of his companions followed his pattern with wide and drunken eyes. By the large wooden door, two Echani Sunguards watched him, bodies stiff and gazes impassive through the slits of their gleaming helmets. They hadn’t budged the entire time, except once.

Earlier, Rok and three of his friends had attempted to push past them, but he quickly discovered that the force pikes were not for show when his friend Norka ended up on the floor twitching madly and cursing their attendants at the top of his wheezing lungs. Rok protested loudly, but eventually decided nothing could be done for it. The Theelin would not risk his life or comfort any more than he must. Norka was a fool to put his hands on the guard anyway after being warned.

Rok increased his pacing. His blood boiled with righteous indignation, and more than his blood. He was still painfully hard down below, robbed of his pleasure by the interference of that gloating Muun.

It didn’t help that he was very drunk. It didn't help that his mind kept supplying him with images of that pale, tight little slave, whimpering and contracting hotly around his probing fingers. Rok growled. The human would have made a perfect fuck.

Even now, Rok could imagine the slave struggling under him, screaming in pain and arousal as Rok fucked him into compliance. He wondered how tight the fit would be, how deep he could put himself in the thin body before the slave begged for mercy. Or better yet, before the slave turned into a trembling mass of nerves, writhing on him and gasping for more.

He prided himself on his prowess. Given time, the young human would have been overcome. He envisioned the dark hair falling over the dark eyes, which would have looked up at him with embarrassed longing. Rok adjusted his pants, remembering the low moans when he was teasing the boy up on the table. He suspected this slave was a quiet one with a cock in him. Some were screamers, but not this one. At least not willingly. His cries on the table had been cries for help, not pleasure.

They were cries to urge on men like Rok.

Yes, he would have been the perfect end to an enjoyable night, had Hego Damask not been unreasonable. Stupid, stupid Muun, flaunting his prizes before his guests and then denying them the pleasures thereof. Accustomed to getting his way, Rok took both women and men when he felt like it. Even free beings usually fell to his charms and promises of money and prestige and a place in the larger galaxy.

In the entertainment industry, Rok had sampled a large variety of the galaxy's best raw talent, watching them sing and dance and act on stage, then taking them to his bed chambers for a racier encore. If they protested or pretended not to want him, all he had to do was threaten their careers. His life was easy leisure, fixed by his late father's choice to throw in his credits with Damask Holdings.

It had paid off well, even though the company was now struggling in the grip of the Hutts. Rok attended the Gathering hoping to negotiate with Jabba the Hutt in particular. If he could make an additional bargain, before Hego Damask discovered just how bad it was... The Muun could not be allowed to discover the depths of his gambling habits.

He really shouldn't have indulged back on Corellia for last month's corporate vacation, but that Force-sensitive consort had been worth every credit. Her faux mind trick... He shivered with lusty delight at the memory. 

The wooden door at the far end opened, and a small, lithe figure entered the room, dressed in a simple and pure white tunic and slate grey trousers, offset by a silver belt and black boots. Rok recognized it as part of the uniform Damask’s non-entertaining servants wore tonight, and then he felt a bolt of surprise down into his toes when the human lifted his head and spotted him across the warm room.

The slave. Rok straightened and stared back, his body swaying slightly and protesting at the sight of his desire nearly within reach. But the Theelin felt suspicion too. What was Damask up to this time?  

The slave dipped his head to both guards, who remained stiffly at attention by the doors, then padded quietly across the room toward Rok. He was almost limping, Rok noticed, and he wondered why. Then his eyes narrowed when the slave stopped only a meter away. The slave looked tired.

No… Rok saw the slender fingers trembling against the white sleeves. No… not only tired, the slave looked bedded, and roughly from the looks of it. Hair unkempt, eyes downcast, skin faintly flushed, a fading scratch on one cheek.

Suddenly the limping and careful movement made sense. Rok sneered. Had Damask sent his freshly fucked slave to the Theelin to gloat? To send a message? “Looks like you had a good time without me,” he said darkly to the slave. “Did you obey your master well?”

The slave met his eyes at last, expressionless and not reacting to the Theelin’s goading. When he spoke, his voice was quietly modulated. “My master wishes to apologize for not being more clear."

"It's about time," Rok grumbled. He was tired of being insulted by the self-important Muun.

"He has asked me to clarify... a few things. If you would..." The slave glanced at the floor, a hot flush rising on his thin face. Rok’s companions listened intently from the sides.

Rok grinned, roving his eyes slowly down the length of the slave's well-clad body and back up, remembering what he had seen out in the courtyard. “Clarify. Huh. I’d like to clarify a few things too. Like how deep you can take me before you start screaming, you little runt.”

The slave looked to the others. It may have been a trick of the flighty firelight, but his eyes appeared to faintly glow. Rok tried to ignore his painfully hard cock as the slave responded in a low voice. “Matters will be cleared up soon, sir. If you would please come with me, Master would like this message to be for your ears only.”

Rok hesitated and stroked at the trio of horns on his temple. “My ears only.”

Gaze fixed firmly back on the floor, the slave murmured, “Yes, and your enjoyment only.”

Perhaps Damask actually had realized his monumental mistake in denying Rok Naros what should have been his. The Theelin grinned widely. “Really? When you’re still sore from him fucking you?”

The slave winced but shook his head. “It’s not my place to question Master.”

“Or me, you’ll find out soon enough,” Rok promised, reaching out and seizing the slave’s chin, tilting the shorter male’s head up and studying his face. No major bruises. Still demure and fetching. Surely he could forget about the Muun once he was balls deep in this little beauty, feeling him squirm helplessly in his lap. Suddenly, he wanted this slave, wanted it more than he ever thought he could.

He really, really wanted it. He didn’t stop to think about it, not anymore.

“What are we waiting for, slave?” he growled into the fragile ears, leaning close. “The sooner we get where we need to be, the sooner I get to fuck your brains out and make you forget all about your master’s cock.”

The slave shivered but nodded and stepped back. “If – if you will follow me, please.”

Rok tossed a confident wave to his companions, who grinned, hopeful, and nodded to his future success. The two guards stepped back politely, allowing the two of them to slip out without a word into the cold stone hallway. For a short time, they walked in silence as the slave led him deeper into the bowels of the fortress, descending two flights of stairs and turning so many corners that Rok was soon lost.

No one else wandered the hallways now. He blamed it on the alcohol for reaching out and slapping the slave’s buttocks. The human jerked and turned. “We’re almost there, sir.”

“I’m an impatient man,” he shrugged and looped his fingers in the slave’s belt, stopping him with a tug and pulling the body flush against his own. He grinded his erection between the other’s legs and felt the slave tense like a lightwhip cracking on an animal’s hide.

When his fingers delved inside the waistband of the trousers, seeking soft flesh, the slave pulled him free and shook his head. “Not out here, sir. In there.” He pointed up ahead at a small set of double doors, leading to a strangely white and gleaming room up ahead.  

It was a very good idea… Rok nodded. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

“A lab,” he chuckled quietly, fingers latching around the slave’s. “A lab? In a fortress? Is this some sort of crazy dream?”

The slave led him on by hand now, and he didn’t mind as they passed the doorframe and the doors slid shut with finality behind him. Maybe it should have bothered him… He roused, the slave passed a hand over his eyes, and he didn’t again.

Instead, he wanted only the body in front of him to be under him instead, moaning and crying out for his thick cock. He reached for the slave’s tunic and fumbled to get it off. The slave chuckled darkly and pushed his hands away, walking further into the sterile room.

“Come here,” Rok slurred softly. Why was his head so fuzzy? He held his alcohol better than this. “Bring yourself back here… I want to see you again.”

“You’ll see everything before long, I promise you that,” the slave smiled, incredibly suggestive, endlessly seductive, and with more than a little madness in those quirked lips. Rok’s body twitched hard in response.

He watched the slave pause by a long, stainless table and run his delicate fingers over its shining surface. Suddenly Rok could see himself lying on it, the slave overtop him, sliding down onto his cock and shuddering as it filled him, riding the Theelin as Rok encouraged him and rocked him into a rough pattern with his own hips. Rok licked his lips, desperate to make his vision a reality.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?” the slave had quit smiling, and now something else dwelt in those dark eyes and focused pout. Deliciously, frighteningly dark, but Rok wasn’t frightened anymore, simply intrigued and so eager to feel the slave’s heat around him. He walked forward, trancelike, and allowed the slave to assist him up onto the table.

“Lie down,” the slave purred, displaying a confidence Rok hadn’t expected. He splayed a hand against the Theelin’s chest and pushed him playfully onto his back. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Rok went willingly. “I believe you,” he gasped. Suddenly the slave was lifting his arms above his head, and suddenly something cold and impartial clicked around both wrists.

He looked at the slave. Those eyes… they weren’t playful anymore. They were deadly serious. Rok blinked.

The warm heat bled from his body even as restraints clicked into place around both his ankles. “What… what are you doing?”

The eyes were definitely glowing. Somehow. Someway. A terrifying golden hue. Rok tugged at his restraints, quite abruptly awoken to his horrible reality. He didn’t know how or what, he only knew this was all a mistake. “Hey, enough of this, slave.”

Thin lips hovered next to his ear. “I am no slave, Rok Naros.”

Rok twisted to look at him, temple horns scraping at the smooth surface, but the human had slipped out of sight. He twisted his head back and caught sight of him again, several feet away and leaning casually over a table filled with… with what? Rok strained to see, but the table was a little higher than his own, and his view was upside down.

The slave chuckled. “Like a shaak to the slaughter.” He turned, his narrow young face lined with utter disdain and hatred. “You fools, always thinking with the wrong part of yourselves, oblivious to the dangers around you.” He said something else, in a language that seemed vaguely familiar.

“Danger?” Rok repeated bluntly. “Where is Magister Damask? You must release me at once, and I’ll let you live, slave. I’ll fuck you bloody to teach you a lesson, but I’ll let you live and I’ll forget about this little indiscretion.” He swallowed, wondering if he were actually in a position to bargain. “I promise.”

“That’s not much incentive for me,” the slave turned fully back toward him, something cradled in both hands as he approached. “And you didn’t listen, did you?”

“You’re a slave,” Rok snapped. “Like you have a choi- Ah!” Something long and hard flashed in the slave’s hand, and he screamed as a sharp sensation bit into the skin of his cheek. Rok whimpered as he felt a trickle of hot blood slide down his face onto the cool table. “You… you struck me…”

“Did I?” The slave looked surprised, but he wasn’t, not at all. Rok could tell, and it made him shiver with abject fear. The face over him was too calm, too composed. Like no one lived there, at least no one natural.

“You… you can’t!” Rok sputtered.

“On the contrary, my perverted _friend_ ,” the human leaned over him, studying the wound dispassionately. Then he dropped his gaze meaningfully to the bulge in Rok’s trousers. “I can do anything I would like. Anything.”

Rok froze in horror.

The slave laughed and patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m not at all like you, so you needn’t fear… that.” Gleaming white teeth flashed briefly. “But I do have a better imagination than you, I think. You seem to enjoy a good gamble… Shall we make a bet?”

The Theelin’s throat had gone completely dry. He barely managed to croak a reply. “A bet?”

“Of course.” He lifted the silvery instrument and hefted it in his hand. “I wager that you will manage to stay alive until I’m finished. Cowards do cling to life rather intensely, after all.”

The businessman’s alien skin turned almost as pale as the walls of the room. “Stay alive?! How is this any sane bet? How can I possibly win anything if the other choice is death? You’re mad! Mad! Help!” The room rang with his desperate shouting.

The not-slave gently touched his lips with the surgical blade, silencing him as effectively as if he had struck him. For an infinite moment, they only stared at each other, then the human nodded. Thoughtful. Serious. “Win? If you die before I finish, well… I suppose that’s its own reward, isn’t it?”

Rok started screaming before the blade touched his flesh. That far down in the reinforced tomb of Sojourn, no one heard his garbled pleas for mercy. No one but one.

Darth Plagueis smiled at the discordant symphony of pain.

The king of the beasts roamed freely tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Rok really should have been more careful from the start. Hubris. Huh.   
> 2\. I just had to throw Palpatine a revenge-party.   
> 3\. Rest assured, Rok's friends are going to learn to keep their mouths shut about what they saw.

**Author's Note:**

> On that note, I've gone through this series and identified their order in the scheme of things. I've done my best to keep this series Legends-compliant with the subtext of "Darth Plagueis" brought to the forefront. 
> 
> (Apprenticeship Begins) - (17 years – 65BBY) - Mandatory Public Service
> 
> Breaking Breaking Broken - (19 years – 63BBY) - Mandatory Public Service
> 
> Manacles of Shimmersilk - (19 years – 63BBY) - Mandatory Public Service
> 
> The Gathering - (19 years – 63BBY) - Mandatory Public Service
> 
> When There is No Further Need - (20 years – 62BBY) - Apprentice Legislator Program
> 
> House of Ghosts - (21 years – 61BBY) - Apprentice Legislator Program
> 
> Become as Beasts - (28 years – 54BBY) - Ambassador for Naboo
> 
> For Now - (29 years – 53BBY) - Ambassador for Naboo
> 
> Students of Politics and War - (46 years – 36BBY) - Senator for Naboo
> 
> What are Loyal Apprentices For? - (48 years – 34BBY) - Senator for Naboo


End file.
